


The Woman in the Woods

by Neacle



Series: The Devil and the Woman [2]
Category: Alien vs Predator (2004), Aliens vs Predators Series - Various Authors, Predator (1987), Predator Original Series (1987-1990), Predator Series
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien Sex, Alien/Human Relationships, Courting Rituals, Exophilia, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Western, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neacle/pseuds/Neacle
Summary: "Yes, he has just begun. The Hunt has commenced and nothing will stop him. Yet, one small obstacle seems to stand in his way to perfect satisfaction. He sees a woman. A woman in the woods."An historical (steamy) romance starring a young, god-fearing noble lady from Louisiana, and a hunter who was just doing his yearly round on earth.Part 2 to Devil in the Trees, told from the yautja's perspective. Can be read alone, but keep in mind part 2 will feature the end and epilogue to _both_ stories.
Relationships: Predator/Human, Yautja (Predator)/Original Female Character(s), Yautja/Human
Series: The Devil and the Woman [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962316
Comments: 57
Kudos: 151





	1. The Alien

**Author's Note:**

> And we're live, yay! 
> 
> And finally you'll know his name lol

Do'Sath-Au, youngest of Great Elder T'ahn'thean, the Victorious Edge. Born on Prime, raised in space aboard Clan station Guan-thwei.

Do'Sath-Au, newly blooded, newly tested, is allowed to pick the planet of his first hunt as an adult, a considerable decision; one that is seemingly heavily influenced by everyone around him.

Why not the deep forests of upper Furera 1? Or the endless crystallized plains of White Hartara? The jungle on Shanda? The caves of Hrak?

To hunt the mighty Ilkins on Rhak 32 and bring back the tusks? Or why not the elongated spine of a Qadil-cat?

Do'Sath-Au, youngest and newly blooded, picks the planet occupied by soft meats; humans, oomans. Easy prey most often, yet every now and then the species produces a golden egg or two. Is is that which he seeks; the egg. The opportunity. The chance. Conflict ravages the planet, and conflict makes for excellent hunting grounds.

The Elders predicts a coming heatwave, and gives him the go-ahead. He is pleased. This will be a good Hunt.

He arrives on the south west of the planet, a place with heat and swamps. The warmth he’s familiar with, the soggy wetness less so. It takes a little time to acclimate, but he finds a pleasant ruin to set up camp. Soon he’ll be ready.

Do’Sath-Au, youngest and newly blooded, makes his first kill five days after his arrival. It is clean, flawless and the ooman-prey never saw him coming. Dirty, dishevelled and carrying more items than any lone thing ever could. A thief most likely. Dishonourable, and therefore honourable to rid from the world.

He skins it, and brings the skull with him to be cleansed and prepared. A good start, and he already craves more. The thrill of the hunt is there, barely contained.

Yes, he has just begun. The Hunt has commenced and nothing will stop him. Yet, one small obstacle seems to stand in his way to perfect satisfaction. He sees a woman. A woman in the woods.


	2. The First Time and all the other times

The first time, he spots her on the road on the edge to the swamps, riding fast and hard atop a grey creature. Prey animal; horse.

At first he pays no mind, resting in the trees while working on a net which broke during a struggle with one of the beasts in the water. Then a movement in his periphery catches his eye, then a sound makes him twitch and turn to look. A shriek, delighted and ferocious at the same time. And the movement a wave of black hair, dark as tar.

It belongs to the soft meat on the horse, pale skin. Very small. The hair is long and wild, moving with the wind and the force of the beast she rides. He has never seen such hair on a human before; the data in their archive always showing it shorter or pinned up. This is let down, trailing behind.

Without thought, he crawls further out the branch he’s sitting on, mask zooming in. He finds it fascinating, the way it moves, just like the mane and tail of the horse. But...softer, smoother.

No yautja moves like that, or looks like that. Idly he trails a claw down his own mane and looks at a tendril. Thick and stiff. Maybe even rougher. He wouldn’t know.

He’s interrupted in his musings when he hears another shriek; a little softer and varying in movement and frequency. He looks down to see her almost right below him, horse having stopped and her face redder than before, chest heaving. That sound is leaving her again, her strange mouth stretching up towards her eyes, teeth showing. Soft meats have a lot of teeth, made to both rip and chew. A lot more teeth than his own people. A small part, the last part of his younger self, before the bloodening, is unnerved. Then he shakes his head. _Foolish._

A nother woman, same dark hair but pinned up, rides up alongside her. Her mouth is not stretched up. It’s pulled down. She starts to speak, and it takes a small while before he realises he has to turn on the language-pack that was installed before his departure. 

“-just ride ahead like that!” The other woman says, then reaches over to pull slightly on her hair. “And pull up that hair. For God’s sake, Gabrielle.” 

One of the words isn’t translated correctly, silent in his earcannal instead of the computer translating directly. Which means it’s either jibberish, or a name.

Gabrielle.

The two women ride on, yet the image and the name stays with him for the rest of the day. He doesn’t know why.

A small, human woman, pale skin and dark, wild hair. And her name is Gabrielle.

The second time, he sees  her  by chance  on the field right outside the swamps, sitting in a vehicle  pulled by different horses.  She has her hair styled and pinned this time, so he can’t place why he recognizes her.  Two women sit beside her, one looks older, more grey in her hair. The other looks similar to the first female he saw ride with her. They all look al ike; same hair, same skin. Siblings most likely. The older one their dame? There’s a man with them as well. He sees no similarities between them, then again – he’s not observed soft meats long enough to quite learn their genetics yet. The logical conclusion is that he’s their sire. 

_Why is he thinking about this?_

He shakes his head again.

This has nothing to do with the hunt. They aren’t his prey. Three small females, and the sire looks old and tired. City-dwellers, nothing more, nothing less.  They seem well off, comfortable. Ordinary human beings. 

_Foolish._

He’s just on his way to turn away and disappear when he hears a sound, different from last time. Almost a shriek, but lower. A sigh perhaps? It’s the woman. He knows.  _Why would he know?_

He turns back to see her slightly bent over the vehicle, hand stretched out to point towards the trees. At first he freezes, terrified she’s seen him. Then he follows her finger and looks down  at the roots. Flowers peek up through the green water, white ones and pink. Without thinking he zooms in. Five petals on each, with smaller almost fleshy bits in the middle. The white ones are clear, while the pink have darker brindles. 

T heir station has a huge biodome with several different plants and trees, both from Prime and other planets under their care. He’s been there a lot when he was young, but never paid much attention to what exactly it was that he was seeing. He holds no particular interest in biology. He can’t say that the flowers which she points at are pretty or beautiful, but they hold his gaze anyway. He supposes they are eye-catching, especially in contrast to their environment.  He turns back to her. Her mouth is stretched across her face again, and then her mother grabs her by the arm to pull her back into her seat. 

W ithout meaning to, he lets out a quiet, amused trill. His dame did the same to him before he was blooded, every time he lost his composure and got too excited. T'ahn'thean was a strict mother. Now she’s an even stricter Elder. 

The woman – Gabrielle, he reminds himself without meaning to – pulls her mouth downwards, just a little. Then she casts one last wistful eye towards the flowers before the vehicle disappear behind a crook. 

He never held any particular interest in biology, but he begins to suspect this one flower lies in the interest of hers.

A tiny part of him wants to know why.

The third time, he sees her by the river that runs through the swamp and out towards the bigger lake by the city. He tries to stay as far away as he can from the establishment, knowing the risks of being seen. He stays in the swamp, hunting the scaled beasts by the waterbanks and the occasional soft meat that seems promising.

She’s in a small boat with someone he’s never seen before,  a man. Young, he presumes. Light hair, short. A citydweller also. He looks no where near the scum he finds in the swamp. 

She  holds a contraption in her right hand, a screen over her head to block out the sun, and a small fan in her left. It’s very warm today, and he’s spent an hour or two just enjoying the heat. 

The station has UV-lights imitating their sun, but it’s been a long time since he’s felt the real thing. Even if it’s not the same one as Prime’s, right now it’s close enough.

It’s not her hair or her voice that makes him look this time, but the screen shielding her frame. Bright white, it reflects the light and makes her stand out across the green-tinted river. He merely looks on in curiosity at first, then tense as she shifts the device to show her face. It’s her!

Her clothes are white as well, her pale skin drowning in the cloth, and her dark hair  such a stark contrast that she almost looks colourless. Monochrome.  Black and white. 

Then she turns to look towards the trees, and their eyes meet. Of course, she can’t see him and wouldn’t know if they held eye-contact or not. Yet, the second they look upon each other makes him flinch and pull back, quickly retreating through the canopy, bending and snapping a few branches in his wake. _Foolish. Brash. A youngling’s mistake._

He snorts in frustration. It will look off if she’d observed it, his camouflage bending the space around him. A small detail, meaningless in the big picture. Any sentient primitive across planets would scoff and wave it off as the wind, or an animal. Anything, really.

It’s fine.

Nothing to worry about.

But just to be safe, he carefully crawls back out further up the river, just to see. Just to make sure. She sits in the boat, staring at the spot he’d just been in. The man seems confused, pulling on her arm to get her attention. At last she seems to drop it and turns back to him.

It’s fine.

Nothing to worry about.

_Right?_

The forth time,  he doesn’t see her, per  s e. He dreams instead.  It’s vague and abstract. He’s never had the more profound clarities some of their Learned Ones does, but it’s clear enough that he knows it’s her. Her face, her strange mouth,  _her hair._

He wakes feeling unsettled and restless. Uneasy.

Why is he so intrigued by her?  He’s only here to hunt, to prove to his dame and Elder that he’s truly the adult that the bloodening showed. 

He drenches himself in the lukewarm swampwater,  then gently floats atop the greenish lake to gather his thoughts.  Step by step. 

_He’s on another planet. He’s hunting soft meats and other promising game. He has seen a soft meat female-_ No, he opens his eyes for a moment.  _He has seen a human woman, three times now. She has shrieked in delight, ridden fast with wild, long hair, pointed at flowers and smiled, and unknowingly met his eyes, dressed in white shaded from the sun. She is pale, almost as pale as his dame’s younger kin._ It is a birth defect. He has not been blooded, instead he works in the Archive. _Her shade seems natural though, shared with her sister and mother. Her hair is black, as shiny as his own dark tendrils, but softer, thinner...yet fuller at the same time. It moves in waves._ He finds that he miss seeing it let down and loose, like the first time. 

A thought invades his mind,  unable to be stopped.  _He wonder what it feels like._

His concentration is  immediately  broken and he  struggles to stay afloat.  He swims to shore and quickly climbs up the trunk to dry in the sun,  the realisation not leaving. 

The bathing did not help his unease, nor the meditation.  He pulls on the metalrings in his tendrils to focus away from his anxiety. It helps a little, but he still feels uncomfortable in his curiosity. As a youngling, he’d wanted to touch a lot of different animals and textures in the Biodome, just to feel what it was like. Hence his dame pulling him away. This is...not like that. She is not an animal. 

He only came here to hunt. To hunt the ones like her,  not study. The worthy opponents, the ultimate prey.  _The golden egg._ D’yeka. 

The fifth time, he does not mean to see her. He traverses the treetops in the swamp, stalking a soft meat on the run, one gun by his hip, another on his back. Something about him irks him, but he cannot put his finger on what.

The soft meat makes his way through the swamp, hiding along the bushes by the road. He’s seen humans like him before, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike any unsuspecting person travelling through. He thinks he’s invisible, unseen. How foolish.

He’s just about to descend the trees and strike when his mask picks up two other heat signatures, both riding horses. He stays his hand to see what happens, and the ambusher seems to bide his time as well, waiting until they’ve ridden past to most likely try and get them from behind.

He can’t tell what the heat spots look like, but something about one of the riders makes him pause, and without thinking he turns the setting off in his mask.

_Gabrielle._

She is there, riding with her sister,  and the ambusher hiding in the brush is reaching for his gun. 

E verything seems to slow down in front of him as he inhales.

As he jumps from the tree.  As he lands by the soft meat. As he grabs him by the head and pulls him along, deep into the swamp. He never has a chance to scream. 

Holding him up against a tree, his scared  eyes white and moist, he thinks of the possibility of the gun hitting her, hurting her. He thinks of the possibility of her blood painting the ground.

The soft meat taint is not a clean kill. His sire would be disappointed,  yet in this moment...he cannot find it in himself to care. Instead of dishonour, only a deep, unfounded satisfaction course s through his veins, and without thinking he trills aloud as he cuts out the spine of his prey. It echoes through the woods, and all the birds g o silent. Foolish to do, especially when he _knows_ there are other humans around. When he knows _she_ is close. 

H e needs to put her out of mind. Yet the  mere thought is almost as bad as the thought of her dying. 

_Oh, Paya, what has she put in his path?_

The sixth time, he sees her because he wants to. Because he searches for her. It’s foolhardy to do, but he stalks into the city as the sun begins to settle, both his camouflage and the shadows helping in his endeavour. 

When he was a youngling, his older sibling  E’sta-thwi would talk of a particular hunt where she’d seen a bird. It wasn’t part of the Hunt, just a simple animal. But she’d thought it was striking, and had kept an eye on it in her spare time between preparation and hunting. How it moved, what it did, if it had any eggs or a mate. It’d been a pleasant occupation during her time on that planet ,  and when she’d read in their archives that it was endangered, she’d kept an even closer look on it. They had programs for  preserving certain species, to not disturb the ecosystems with their hunts and conquests. E’sta-thwi had quickly motioned for that species to be added. 

He makes the assumption that perhaps this is his bird; an interesting way to pass the time. To observe a striking creature, to see how it thrives, to make sure nothing hurts it.

_Yes, it must be so._

It is therefore he has traversed into the city, to observe her, to see how she thrives.  _He has no idea where she lives._

He stops in his tracks. This is silly, foolish. _But he’s already here._ Where to begin?

Several vehicles drive past him  then, all going in the same direction. The humans look...well dressed,  different from what he’s seen out in the field. It could just be citylife,  but the jewellery the women wear,  the colourful accessories, the overall atmosphere he sees...it speaks of celebration, a party. He knows it well. 

Perhaps she is there? Her kin seemed well off, it’s not unreasonable that she would be at a gathering such as this.

He follows the carriages  through the street, scaling trees and houses to keep out of sight, his feet silent as  he run s across the rooftops.  They lead him to the bigger houses, stopping in front of a white one. The garden is big, meeting the sunset. Lots of trees.  _Perfect._

H e waits in the canopy, looking through the windows, searching for a glimpse of black hair and pale skin. It’s much harder than he thinks; a lot of humans inhabit the house, and  he gets lost  i n the jungle of hats, accessories and unknown faces. Zooming in with his mask only makes it more disorienting.  _Maybe he misjudged…_

He’s just about to jump down the tree and leave when a splash of blue makes him turn back.

Her dress is blue, and he sees her walk out towards the balcony, fan in hand. The man from the boat is with her, and they look at each other with their teeth showing and mouths upturned. The man leans in to press his mouth against her chin and whisper something in her ear and something tugs in his belly as he watches her cheeks turn red and her mouth turning even more. _She is happy._ He does not know much about soft meats, but something in the way she looks just makes him certain.

The man touches his mouth against her hand then, before turning to walk back inside. She stays, fanning her face and looks out towards the trees. Towards _him._

Her cheeks are still red, her mouth still upturned, albeit closed and he cannot help himself. He zooms in. Her eyes are green, her face rather round while her body is slim and small. Her cheeks have small spots. He did not notice them before.

He thinks of his sister’s bird, how striking it looked. How she had simply enjoyed studying it.

He watches this human, and as she turns to meet his eyes by accident once more he inhales, remains where he is, and stares back. She does not know he is there, of course. _Yet a small part wishes she did._ A small part, yes...but strong as well. _So strong, in fact, that-_ No, he cannot. He knows the rules. He knows the consequences. _But...it is only her, she could do nothing to compromise his role and that of his people. He just wants…_ What does he want? He does not know, instead he reaches for his gauntlet to turn off the camouflage, to slowly climb further down the tree, to slowly reveal himself to her. He makes his way around the trunk, steps out on a branch, and looks at her. She looks back. Her eyes widen.

Then the man comes back up and calls her name and the spell breaks. He sees what he has done, stops breathing for just a second, then jumps down the tree and runs towards the shadows as he quickly turns on his camo again. _Foolish, foolish, foolish._

What has he done? _It’s fine, it’s nothing. It was late, she would explain it away._ He knows his people have made fumbles before, and the natives have always dismissed it. Illusions, imagination, tricks. _It’s fine, it’s nothing._

He runs, climbs, jumps through the city and back out towards the swamp, towards his nest in the ruins. Once there, he slumps down against the stone wall, takes a deep breath and tries to think. He sees her face, her hair, her eyes. He sees her red-cheeked and happy. He hits the ground a few times, claws at the dirt. His skin and groin itches uncomfortably at the vision, and the realisation makes him ill at ease.

He thinks of his sister’s bird.

How striking it looked.

How she had simply enjoyed studying it.

He thinks of the human, of Gabrielle. He does not wish to merely study her.

He presses down on his codpiece, rumbles into his mask. He feels disgusted. But most of all, he feels something he hasn’t felt since before he was blooded. He feels scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor boy


	3. The Realisation

When he was blooded, one of the many perks of stepping into official adulthood was the possibility of broodmates. Young, attractive hunters itching for a fight and perhaps later even laying together. Maybe even impressing some of the older, more experienced people on the station.

A celebration is held with every official bloodening, and Do’Sath-Au had entered it with both trepidation and eagerness one would only be able to find in hotblooded younglings on the brink of becoming an adult.

That feeling had only grown as the evening had passed, and when he’d noticed the tempered look of one of his kin from the Hunt, the trepidation and eagerness had culminated at night when she’d dragged him aside to hiss a challenge against his heated hide.

His only answer had been to pounce on her, body ready for her immediate retaliation. Zo’ka-Ta had been her name, and their rivalry in the bloodening had taken its toll on almost everyone involved, and now the tension between them could at last reach its inevitable fruition. She was tall – naturally for a female – but slimmer than him, so slim and lean that he’d almost worried he’d hurt her the first time they met in training. A foolish thought, in hindsight. Zo’ka-Ta was a woman, and he had never met one that had been broken by anyone, and he wouldn’t now either.

They had tussled for a while before she had him on his back, tongue out to gently smell their mingled N’dui’se, pheromones high and heady around them.

“Yield this game.” She’d growled as she bent down to muzzle his mandible.

And he’d followed in turn, tradition taking hold.

“Do you demand it?” He’d asked and the flickering of her jaw betrayed her. He could tell this moment was just as big for her as it was to him.

“Yes, I demand it.”

And so it was, both adults now. The breeding had not yielded any results, but then it was not what the both of them had sought out to begin with either, so their pride had not been wounded at the fruitless endeavour. They had sated the hunger and eased the tension, a good fight and even better coupling bettering their moods and temperament.

With Gabrielle though...he’s not sure what his mood _or_ temperament has to say there.

He has not made any efforts to try and see her again, his foolish exposure to her scrutiny leaving a sour taste in both mouth and mind.

Instead he has emerged himself in the Hunt, preying on both beast and ooman alike. One part of him wishes it will sate whatever it is that is gripping his mind like a vice, another wishes for the complete opposite. If not anything here can still his thoughts, perhaps she is the only solution?

Again disgust washes over him when he contemplates the different ways she might quell his raging blood, and the filthy thoughts only spur his cumulative crusade. Several bodies adorn the trees, stripped raw of their skin and some their spines. What he presumes are the human version of lawmen stumbles upon his handywork quite by accident, and well...he can’t say he’s too pleased when he overhears their apparent leader announcing the swamps forbidden to enter.

At first he takes it in stride; the swamps still holds its fair share of game, and he knows for certain that the lower scum of oomans still would dare to enter his realm, if only to lay low in an area where they know it’s harder to find them.

It’s only later when he cleans his glaive that realisation hits him. If no one is allowed to enter, then Gabrielle will no longer take her weekly rides through the swamps, nor drive past the outskirts in her family’s vehicle. The thought fills him with unease, and again he curses his mind, his body, his essence.

Throwing the glaive to the ground in frustration, he sets off to the nearest tree and climbs as high as he can. Settling on a branch to soak up the sun, he desperately tries to focus once more on his thoughts and pinpoint their meaning.

_He’s on another planet. He’s hunting soft meats and other promising game. He has seen a human woman; her name is Gabrielle. An alien. She has shrieked in delight, ridden fast with wild, long hair, pointed at flowers and smiled, and met his eyes twice, once dressed in white shaded from the sun, and the other dressed in blue bathed in sunset. Her hair is black, dark as night. It moves in waves. He wants to know the feel of it. Her cheeks and nose are lightly dotted. He wants to inspect that as well, wants to know if the rest of her body is equally freckled._

He wants to know all of her, he thinks with clarity, and when he imagines his fist holding her hair by the neck, gently but firmly, the tightening of his codpiece also tells him he wants to lay with her.

In some ways he already knew this, but it helps to put it into words, if not physical then at least mentally.

That does not stop the still apparent disgust he feels at these downright unnatural wishes. At the height of their prime, the Yautja have never fraternized with other species, and especially not the ones they actively _hunt._ It is sickening and shameful, this desire. No better than laying with one of their dogs back at the station.

_Except, that’s not true, is it?_

He knows with absolute certainty that...humans are intelligent beings. It is – after all – their ingenuity that makes them such excellent prey. But to have her as a broodmate? 

If he tries to cast aside the point of her ancestry, if he tries to imagine her as simply  _her_ ...It’s still a difficult feeling to fully accept. She is small, and lean, her skin like his dam’s younger kin, the genetic defect. Her face is flat and that mouth that stretches up her cheeks. Among his kind, her height and form resembles that of a child. And all those teeth… What could he possibly find so endearing about her? 

_He can’t answer that._

Again he questions Paya’s wisdom, why She has put this in his path. Perhaps it serves as a distraction on his first Hunt? Perhaps every blooded one is presented with temptation in one form or another? Is he strong enough then to resist? His claws dig painfully into his palms. 

_He can’t answer that either._

He opens his eyes to see the sun almost gone, the reds and pinks of the sky painting the mountains black against the horizon.

Sleep comes with great difficulty that night, and when it claims him at last he dreams of Zo’ka-Ta. The dreams are blurry and difficult to pin down, a whirling storm of sensations and images. They are fighting, they are running, they are laying. In the dream he is winning their brawl, and when she bares her throat to him in ritual, it is suddenly Gabrielle beneath him. He’s dreamt of her once before, of course, but not in such specific detail, and certainly not in such a scenario. 

He wakes up coldskinned and panting, his groin tight and pulsing. He’d reached out to touch her face – he recalls – but could feel nothing of its texture or warmth. Same with her hair. He would never know, he realises, if he’d never do it in real life, his mind having nothing to go on. 

What would a Learned One have to say about this, he wonders. How would they read his dreams about a person, a person that has now shown up in his mind twice. Surely it must mean something. A temptation for sure, but...perhaps something else as well? Something more?

_What would be the damage if he actually succumbed?_ No, he must not think so. A great many things could be damaged.  _But she’s just one human. No one would believe her._ He’d be branded a deviant if it ever got out!  _But why would it?_

No, indeed. He’s here alone, and he’s collected many trophies. If he sought her out once more, if he succumbed...then he would, and by the next moon he’d travel back home. _And no one would know._ No one but him, and so it would stay.

Yes, so it would stay. The Hunt would commence and nothing would stop him. Yet – he realises – one small obstacle stands in his way to sating him.

He has no idea how to court a human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N’dui’se = the yautja "musk"
> 
> Next up: How to court a human woman, or how not to court a human woman   
> Again, updates might be slow, I'm sorry. School and all that, and we're starting up thesis-writing in a couple of weeks soooo
> 
> But thank you for sticking with me <33


End file.
